What's missing

I'll tell you what's missing: the 2nd movement of the Ravel Gmajor piano concerto.  It's the most sublime 9 minutes of music you've probably never heard.  Go on - youtube it.  I'll wait here for you.

I've been in France for a week, and my jet lag is getting better.  This doesn't seem obvious, as I'm writing this blog post at nearly 1am, but it's better than it was.  At least I'm considering going to bed in the next 20 minutes.  But with Ravel playing, the world seems brighter, more optimistic.  I can almost pretend that it's not sub-freezing outside, and that the layer of ice covering the sidewalks I must walk to the opera house might consider melting.

It's rare I'm truly moved by music anymore.  That's an awful thing to say, given that I've chosen to spend my life in this art.  But it's worse than snobbery.  I've become numb to most theatrical 'wow' tricks.  I've listened to so many recordings, been to so many recitals, it really takes a serious shock to make me catch my breath.  I can think of a few standouts offhand:

1.  Ariadne auf Naxos at Lyric Opera Chicago this past winter.  The final scene had me gasping for breath, tears rolling down my face, it was so moving.  

2.  Der Rosenkavalier at Semperoper Dresden last winter - presentation of the rose scene.  I've heard it so many times, but experiencing it in the context of the opera was completely different for me.  Maybe it was hearing it in Strauss' opera house, with an orchestra that has been heeled and raised on Strauss, in a building that breathes and lives Strauss, but it was a big bang wow for me.

3.  Poulenc flute sonata - 2nd movement - played by Jean-Pierre Rampal and Francis Poulenc himself, available on DVD (or on youtube, if you like).  Exquisite, truly.  And Poulenc's playing isn't perfect, it's real, true.  

Ravel is my old friend.  I was 16 when I went to audition at LSU (post-audition celebratory cheetos care of my good friend and audition chauffeur, Kristy) for their piano performance degree.  I don't recall how it came about, maybe I was waiting around for my other audition, but I ended up in their recital hall and someone was playing Une barque sur l'ocean, from Miroirs.  I was truly transported.  Same when my piano teacher in college sent me to the library to listen to the Gmajor piano concerto, 2nd movement.  Something about crazy old Maurice just gets to me.  No - gets me.  As crazy as it sounds, Ravel gets me.  And I'm so very grateful for him on these cold nights, when I'm far from home and the ones I love.  Because he comes to me, wherever I am, and reminds me of why I do this crazy business of being a musician.  It's not for the costumes (let's not revisit the lamémumu),  it's not for the travel (no, mom, they don't fly opera singers first class), it's never for the money (oy, tax season), but every now and then, when you're really lucky and things are very special, you get to make art and share it with an audience.

In the minutes it's taken you to read this post, I hope you were listening to the piano concerto.  My friend Jennifer is listening to it right now, while studying for her history exams, in a library in south Mississippi, and it makes me so happy to know we're there together.  Seven times zones are easily bridged, when Ravel is there.  That said, I'm going to tuck myself into bed with these happy strains in my ears.

Good night, sweet Maurice.  You always know what I need.